


santa pally (alternatively, eat your heart out, michael buble)

by saltyfeathers



Series: Frivolity is the Spice of Life [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Christmas Fluff, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfeathers/pseuds/saltyfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cas likes christmas music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	santa pally (alternatively, eat your heart out, michael buble)

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas everyone. except michael buble.

Despite “innumerable gross inaccuracies” (Cas’ words, not Dean’s) Cas is a _huge_  fan of Christmas music.

He has a few qualms with a couple songs- “Dean, if it’s so cold outside, maybe he should just offer her a ride home instead of trying to force her to stay”, “What kind of cheer does one find in their relatives being trampled by reindeer?”- but for the most part, he thinks they’re great.

It drives Dean up the wall. Sam loves it.

It’s only on Christmas Eve that Cas finally breaks into the twenty first century, with quote on quote “modern classics”. Mariah Carey’s been piping through the bunker for hours now, and Dean’s not sure if he’s going to finish baking this pie, or start all over again with Cas as the main filling.

Blessedly, Cas switches it up eventually to Michael Buble. It’s not perfect, but better than rendition one thousand and fifty two of “All I Want for Christmas is You”.

Dean’s just sliding the pie into the oven (this time, sans Cas- luckily for him, Dean’s not so eager to throw his boyfriend into the fire just yet) when Cas slides up behind him to peer over his shoulder.

“It smells divine, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but feels his cheeks grow hot regardless.

“It’s not even cooked yet, you doorknob. You can’t smell it.”

“I don’t need to smell it to know it’s going to smell amazing.”

“Do you even know what you just said?”

Cas presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

“I know better than you do, unfortunately.”

Dean spins around, lets Cas back him up against the counter.

“I have a question,” Cas says lightly, trailing a finger up Dean’s side.

“Oh?”  Dean smirks, wrapping his hands around Cas’ waist. “What’s that?”

Cas leans in close, eyes dark and promising. He whispers:

“Why does Michael Buble feel the need to call Santa ‘buddy’ when the original lyrics call him ‘baby’?”

Dean rolls his eyes and silently apologizes to his wilting arousal.

“Jesus  _Christ_ , Cas. Did you  _really_  feel the need to whisper that seductively?”

***

Dean calls Cas ‘buddy’, ‘pally’, and ‘dude’ in bed that night, and Cas has to concede his point. It really is a mood killer.

**

The next morning, Dean kisses Cas on top of the head at breakfast and says, “Merry Christmas, baby,” and Sam almost chokes on his orange juice.

“Merry Christmas, dude,” Cas, the little shit, replies.


End file.
